


Buttons and Bows

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [25]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, F/M, London, Santa Baby, Santa Claus - Freeform, Smut, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you alright, Santa?” I peered at his face, reassured somewhat by the twinkle in his bright blue eyes.<br/>“Yes, darling girl.” He took my hand in his. “Now tell me. Have you been a good girl this year?”<br/>“Well,” I began. “Good is rather subjective term, don’t you think?”<br/>“So that means you’ve been bad then?”<br/>“Yes, sir.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buttons and Bows

I was scooping cookie crumbs onto a saucer when Stephanie Harrowman from the alumni association stopped me.

“Carmen, please.” Steph shook her head at me, her hazel eyes sparkling. “You’ve already helped us so much with the party tonight.” She nodded at the far side of the room. “Go talk to Santa Claus.”

I laughed. “Are you sure you that’s alright? Does the United States have an official diplomatic relationship with the North Pole?”

We were standing in a dining room at the United States Embassy. A very wealthy, very connected alumnus had arranged for the University to have a holiday party here, hosted by the very small but very enthusiastic alumni club for the city of London. The evening had been a great success, and now guests were making their way out into the rain to head home.

I shook my head. “I’m sure Santa’s talked to enough people as it is. He doesn’t want to listen to me.”

“Come on, give him a chance.” Steph gave me a little nudge. “He’s waiting.”

I smoothed down my skirt, stood up straight, and crossed the room. Around me, waiters were clearing dishes and floral arrangements, and some of the younger alumni were arguing where to go for the after-party. I shook my head at them when they called out to me, inviting me to some fancy cocktail bar in Shoreditch where everybody would be 15 years younger than me.

I found Santa by a table laid with wrapped boxes, each containing a hat and scarf in the University colors. Everybody who visited him got one. His long white hair looked real enough, though his beard was awfully shiny. Gloves tucked into his belt, he stood patiently as I drew near.

“Hi, Santa.” I waved at him, then looked askance when he planted himself in an armchair and patted his leg. “You sure you want to do this? The party’s just about over.”

“Of course, my dear!” When I sat down, he made a noise that sounded more like a moan than a groan.

“Are you alright, Santa?” I peered at his face, reassured somewhat by the twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

“Yes, darling girl.” He took my hand in his. “Now tell me. Have you been a good girl this year?”

“Well,” I began. “Good is rather subjective term, don’t you think?”

“So that means you’ve been bad then?”

“Yes, sir.”

Santa chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me dear.”

“I don’t flirt with married men, Santa.” I looked over my shoulder. “But I’d feel better knowing Mrs. Claus wasn’t waiting to drag me into the alley for a catfight, just the same”

“As would I. Mrs. Claus is a bit of a scrapper.” Santa replied soberly.

When I tugged lightly on Santa’s beard, he wagged his finger at me. “Now, now. The whiskers are off-limits.”

“To everyone except Mrs. Claus, right?” I felt myself blush when he roared with laughter.

“You, darling Carmen, are walking on very thin ice.” Santa moved his arm from my shoulders to my waist, shifting his legs so I leaned into him more.

I examined his face. “How did you know my name was Carmen?”

His eyes flitted down to the front of my sweater. “Your nametag, darling.”

“Right,” I nodded. I was thinking about what to say next when he shifted, nearly knocking me off his lap. “Hey!”

“Sorry, dear, but I wanted to get your present.” He looked apologetic as he handed me a small white box.

“But you didn’t even ask me what I wanted!” I protested, making a show of shaking the box. I frowned. “It doesn’t sound like what I wanted.”

“What was it that you wanted?”

I sighed. “A nice Christmas with my boyfriend. He’s been away for a few months, working. Can’t wait for him to come home.”

“That’s easy enough, dear. I’m sure he’ll be home soon.” Santa patted my back. “Anything else?”

I bit my lip. “A naughty New Year?”

“Carmen!”

“Well, you asked, Santa.” I smirked. “I should open it, right?” When Santa nodded, I took the lid off the box. Inside lay another box, nestled in cotton next to a sprig of mistletoe.

“Santa,” I said slyly. “What’s this?”

“Just a little mistletoe, dear.” His eyes followed my hands as I took the mistletoe out and tucked it under the brim of his cap. I kissed him on the forehead.

“Thank you, dear.”

Santa took the white box so I had only the smaller box in my hands. Inside the smaller box was a brass heart, engraved with words in a loopy script that I couldn’t quite make out. “Santa, what does it…”

When I turned to look at him, Santa slipped his hands around the back of my neck and kissed me right on the mouth. I drew my head back, ready to scramble off his lap, but he pulled me back in and began planting kisses on my jaw.

“Oh Button,” Tom sighed in my ear. “I was all ready to keep this going but… oh god, you’re so warm, and you’re wearing that damned tight sweater and that flirty little skirt you had on the first time we…” He cupped my face in his hands, looking at me closely. “Hello.”

I reached up and pulled off his beard, which had been stuck to his face with some kind of adhesive. “There you are.”

“Here we are.” Tom smiled then hugged me tight.

“You’re home early.”

“Yes. Thank goodness.” He looked down at my hand, which still clutched the open box. “D’you like it?”

I held the box closer to my face, laughing when I read the inscription on the heart. “It’s [a brass heart that says ‘less talk, more cock’](http://ingodwetrustnyc.com/collections/sweet-nothings/products/sweet-nothing-necklace-brass-less-talk-more-cock?variant=10616351556) on it. What do you think?”

“So that’s a yes, then?”

I kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip when his tongue flicked out to tap mine. “Yes. I love it.”

* * *

Tom kept his Santa suit on for the car ride home, though he was happy to get rid of the beard and the wig. When we got up to the front door, I kissed his hand.

“So happy you’re here, baby.” When he smiled, I stood up on my toes and kissed him. “Hope you like your present.” I unlocked the door and gave him a gentle shove. “Welcome home.”

I followed Tom inside giving him a moment to take it all in. I hadn’t asked about decorating, I just went nuts. The house is bigger than my apartment back in Chicago, so I had enough space for the spruce tree in the corner. It was hung with colored lights and strings of popcorn, with buttons knotted onto yarn that was wound from top to bottom. There were sprigs of mistletoe hanging from each light fixture, and stockings ready to be hung up. My mother had sent a parol, a star-shaped lantern that people in the Philippines hang up in their windows at Christmas, which now hung in the front window. I closed the door behind me, and watched him walk around the room.

When I thought I saw him wipe a tear off his cheek, I went to him, standing behind him as I wrapped my arms around him at the waist. I pressed my cheek to his back.

“You like it?”

“Yeah,” he said. He pulled my arms around him tighter, then kissed the tips of my fingers. “Carmen, I fucking love it.”

“It’s late. We should go upstairs. And you’ve had a long day, I bet.”

Tom nodded, and let me take his hand for the slow walk upstairs. “I slept a bit on the plane. Or planes, rather.”

“Where’d you stop?”

“Just Los Angeles. And I came straight to the party from the airport.”

Once we were in the bedroom, I sat Tom down on the bed and began to pull off his boots. “How did you even get into the Embassy?”

“I have my ways.”

Tom was leaning back, hands splayed on the mattress behind him. I stood up and got into his lap, straddling him while I unbuttoned his jacket and removed it. “Need help with the trousers?” Tom nodded yes, arching his hips up slightly as I pulled them down, along with his socks. Clad only in an undershirt and boxers, he looked ready to fall asleep. I helped him get under the covers, then fetched my present to him from its spot under the bed.

“What’s this, Button?” Tom brushed his hands over the manila folder I’d placed in his hands.

“Your present.” I kissed the top of his head, then began to get undressed. “It’s a bedtime story.”

“A bedtime story?” Tom looked at me questioningly.

I shrugged innocently as I threw my skirt and sweater over a chair, then my stockings. I kept my slip on, though, and joined Tom under the covers. I kissed the tip of his nose. “May I read it to you?”

“Please,” Tom said. He handed me the folder, which I opened, withdrew the sheets of paper from it, and began to read.

> _[It was a cold day in Chicago,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4653450/chapters/10618122) so Carmen was grateful that the walk from the quad club, where she had been entertaining some donors, to the new library was short._

“Hmm.”

“What?” I looked up at Tom, but he shook his head.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “Please.”

> _Mrs. Harper took a closer look at Carmen’s outfit. “You look darling, perfectly darling.” She squeezed Carmen’s wrist. “I love it. The kilt in the school colors, maroon and dove grey, with the boots to match. Adorable.”_
> 
> _Carmen blushed. “I try to show a little school spirit. It’s just a thing I like to do, but I think it’s nice.”_
> 
> _“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”_
> 
> _“What is it that I’m doing, Mrs. Harper?” Carmen tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled._
> 
> _“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, that tall drink of water over there can’t take his eyes off you.”_
> 
> _“What?” Carmen sputtered. Not breaking her stride, Carmen turned her head and felt her heart fall into the pit of her stomach. It was him._

I stopped for a moment when Tom pressed his face into my neck, kissing it.

“More, please,” he said, and I obliged.

> _What was he doing in her library? What was one of the founding members of her secret fantasy celebrity boyfriend club doing standing there with Mr. Bower? She had learned of the extra tour member at lunch and didn’t think too much of it, not even when the alumni association vice president wouldn’t tell her who it was. Carmen would have been fine with a minor celebrity, a Chicago celebrity like an anchor from WGN Morning News or the restaurant owner Rick Childress._
> 
> _It didn’t help that time seemed to slow as she drew near to him. And that as she approached details of him began to emerge and make him real. He had stubble on his jaw and chin. A scarf hung around his neck, and suede gloves were jammed into one of his pockets. His brow was high, and his complexion was clear. Hair a sort of honey color, and eyes that were bright in the grey light that came in from the outside into their bubble of glass and books and people typing away on laptops._
> 
> _Carmen’s throat was dry, which she tried to convince herself was due to the cold winter air. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the handsome man who stood there as if he had always been waiting for her to find him._
> 
> _How could this be Tom Hiddleston? The embodiment of everything Carmen wanted, but was convinced she could never have, standing there with a curious expression on his face. And why did he look at her so strangely? Something must be wrong, or maybe he thought she was somebody else. That must be it, Carmen told herself, noticing at last that he was staring at her chest, a half beat longer than he should have, perhaps. She touched his arm and, surprisingly, did not burst into flames._
> 
> _“Dude.” Carmen looked up and thought,_ Oh shit. His eyes really are that blue.
> 
> _“Oh! Sorry, erm…” Tom wobbled just a little bit as he stood up straight, and Carmen thought he looked as if he might faint. He’s probably just overcome by the heat, still in his coat. That would explain the flushed cheeks. Right?_
> 
> _“Carmen. It’s Carmen.” She frowned at him, already counting herself out as nothing more than another girl who adored him, just another fan for him to humor with a picture or an autograph or an awkward hug, and she hated herself for it. She cared, and it made her resentful. She turned to face Mr. Bower, as she wasn’t sure she could bear to look up at Tom’s face, with those cheekbones and pink lips. But even as she did, the mental image of Tom slipping one large hand up her sweater while the other fumbled under her skirt refused to leave her mind. She dug her nails into her palms._
> 
> Focus, _she thought._ Focus.

“Are you still awake?” I looked down to find Tom staring up at me. I kept my eyes on his face, as he took the papers and the folder from me, flinging them on the floor. When I slid down next to him, he waited a beat before he pounced.

Tom kicked off the covers before straddling me at the waist. His hands pawed at the straps of my slip, tugging them down over my shoulders so my breasts were bared to him. I shivered when I felt the cool air hit my nipples, which were already hard.

“You don’t care about this slip, do you?” Before I had a chance to say anything, Tom ripped it in half. He kissed me hard, sucking on my bottom lip and then my tongue when I gasped into this mouth. His hands were so big and warm, they felt so good as they covered my breasts. He rolled my nipples between his thumb and forefingers, and I whimpered.

“I missed that,” Tom said, his voice low and almost threatening in my ear. “Your voice. Cooing and whingeing in my ear.”

“Yes.” I closed my eyes. “Yes.”

When he sat up to pull off his shirt, I ran my hands up his stomach up to his chest. His skin felt a little damp, no doubt from having to wear that costume, and then the cool air in our room. Tom took my hands and placed them on my breasts.

“Touch yourself, darling.” His voice was ragged, but firm. I brushed my fingers over my nipples, relishing how sensitive they were. Tom moved down the bed, taking my knickers and sliding them off my legs when he got to the foot. He dropped them so he could tug his own boxers off. I moaned loudly when I saw his cock, so big and hard, when he was finally undressed completely. He took himself in hand and began to stroke, waiting until I slipped one of my own hands between my legs before he spoke again.

“Good girl.” Tom released his cock, then crawled up between my legs. He grabbed me by the thighs then pulled me down to him, my legs draped over his as he knelt there. My hips were angled up and so I was open to him. Tom took my hand, the one that had been leisurely rubbing my clit, fingers occasionally straying into my folds, and sucked on my fingers. I giggled, and he smiled.

“You liked that, didn’t you, Button?”

“You know I did.” I said breathily. “I missed you.”

“Miss anything in particular?” Tom growled as he began to rub the tip of his cock against my clit.

“Oh fuck…” I cried out, my hips rolling up as she continued to torture me. “Fuck me, Tom. Please.”

Tom closed his eyes and groaned. He could only hold out for so much longer. “Have you been good this year, Carmen?”

“No.”

Tom wrapped his hands around my thighs, then thrust into me. He filled me completely at once, and I cried out. My cries changed to moans of pleasure as he continued to thrust, rolling and snapping his hips as he did so.

My back ached and I could feel my juices dripping out of me onto the mattress. One hand found its way back to my clit, fingers circling it frantically while the other hand played with my breasts. Tom was moving so slowly, holding back so this could last longer, so we could last longer. But I wanted him on me, inside of me, relentless. I missed him, and I know he missed me. I was impatient, and so was he.

I reached out for him, my hands reaching up to his shoulders, and I pulled him down so he hovered above me. Hands planted on either side of my head, he clenched his jaw and redoubled his efforts. He looked down at me, at my breasts as they bounced. I began to play with my nipples.

“Fuck, I miss your tits.” I looked up into his eyes, and he kissed me hard. “Your mouth.”

“Yeah,” I rasped. “And there will time to attend to those later. But right now… oh fuck, yeah just like that... I need your cock.”

“Brat.” Tom began to move his hips faster, and I felt like he was going to drive me right into the bed.

“Yes,” I hissed. “That’s right.”

I brought my legs up and he fucked me harder, going deeper and deeper. He was so big, and hot, and his breath was hot on my face, and when he kissed me it was rough and messy and then my fingers were on my clit because of the tightness, the heat in my sex that was beginning to grow, and I wanted to come and I wanted him to come and even though he was on top of me he still wasn’t close enough so I reached for him I grabbed him I dug my nails into his back and I refused to let go. Not even when he bit my shoulder, called me a brat, said I was his little bitch because he was here and he was mine and then he held me tight against his chest I was on top and his hand was there on my button on his button and his cock buried in my cunt and my teeth in his flesh and then…

One. I screamed into his chest as I began to come, hard.

Two. He said my name over and over as he bucked over and over and then…

Three. I began to laugh, my body shuddering so much that he slipped out but came right back in and that made him laugh and I could feel it, feel us, wet and sticky, on my thighs…

Four. He relaxed into the bed. I relaxed into his chest. He breathed out, laughing almost nervously when I followed suit.

I lifted my head and looked at Tom’s face. His eyes were big and dark, pupils still blown. he looked at me like he’d seen something he’d never seen before.

“What?” I whispered.

Tom shook his head. “I don’t… wow.”

I smiled. “Yeah. Okay.”

I put my head back down and his chest, then closed my eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Car.”

“Merry Christmas, Tom.”

“Look at me, Car?”

I lifted my head again and gazed at my beloved.

“I love you, Button.”

“I know.”

Tom tugged on my hair, and I laughed.

“I love you, Baby.”

Tom helped me crawl off him, cleaned us up a little, then waited until we were spooning, my back to his chest, then hummed in my ear. I pulled his arms tight around my waist, closing my eyes when he kissed my earlobe.

“Welcome home, Button.”

I turned my head and looked at him.

“Thank you. Now go to sleep.”

I shut my eyes, brought his fingers up to my lips so I could kiss them, and eventually fell fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for Carmen to write fic for Tom has been in my head almost since the beginning of their story.


End file.
